All familiar characters belong to Janet. All mistakes and sentiments are solely mine.

The sound of wood separating from metal broke the otherwise silence of the late night. The door I'd kicked in swung wide, surprising a clueless couple snorting a few lines in the poor excuse for a living room.

"Where's that motherfucker?" Lester barked.

"Santos," I warned.

Although I know he loves and protects Stephanie like she's his little sister, this is my fight.

"Which room is Lahn's?" I asked just as 'politely' as Lester had.

"Second floor. One after the bathroom," the female wisely answered.

I know by the time we come back down the stairs, they'll be gone. Not only do they not want trouble, they don't want to be involved in anything that could get the cops catching them red-handed and red-nosed with their recently purchased stash.

I took the stairs two at a time and a second door quickly cracked open under the force of my boot. The fucker I was after jumped so far out of bed, he levitated for a few beats. My fist was there to greet him when he landed back on the creaky mattress. My punch created the opposite reaction in him than the door crashing open. He's now sprawled lifelessly across his stained blanket instead of hovering inches above it.

"Get up," I ordered, not giving a shit if he's conscious or not.

"Do it fast," Bobby added. "NO ONE ... and we mean no one tries to hurt our girl or Ranger Manoso's woman. You need to pay."

"GET. UP. I won't say it again," I continued.

"If you just shoot him where his ass is staying, he'll be real easy to drag out of here on his way to the dump. He's already half-wrapped in a blanket, makes for a convenient body bag," Tank noted.

"He needs to learn that women are to be respected and treated kindly. He can't do that if I immediately kill him," I replied. "We can discuss how to dump his body later, once he's apologized for threatening Stephanie and admits that he's nothing but a limp dick for making a mess out of his ex's face."

My punch must have knocked some sense back into Archibol Lahn, because he finally figured out the reason the four of us are standing in his crash-pad in the middle of the night. Unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong way to acknowledge the situation.

"That nosy brunette with the nice ass and bad attitude's yours?"

The butt of my Glock disappeared into his greasy hair when I brought my weapon down with no mercy onto his skull.

"The beautiful woman who you took a swing at for stopping your attack on someone, who for some really fucked-up reason used to love you, is under my protection. For every curl on her brunette head that you managed to upset, you're going to receive a broken bone. What's first? Wrist or ankle?"

"I still vote for just shooting the motherfucker," Lester added. "Maybe we can coordinate our shots to make a smiley face in his chest. The blood leaking from each wound will add a nice bit of irony to the happy face. Steph could've had the honor of pulling her trigger if she wasn't such a sweetheart, taking care of that woman instead of taking care of this fucker. She deserves a smiley face."

"Santos doesn't have many ideas that are decent, but I'm feeling this one," Tank told me.

"Put those feelings on hold for an hour," I said to Tank before addressing the asshole again, who finally moved his ass closer to the edge of the bed. "Put your pants and shoes back on. You're coming with us."

"Where?" He asked, now getting smart and understanding that he may not make it through the night.

"The gateway to Hell," Brown answered, "where pieces of shit like you belong. You won't be needin' a jacket."

"He won't be needin' toothpaste either when we get done with him," Santos added. "I'm gettin' real good at knocking teeth out three at a time."

"We've discussed this. He's mine," I reminded them.

"Yeah, but you promised us a few minutes with him," Santos whined. "If he thinks women are supposed to just stand there and let him throw punches at 'em, he probably believes he's man enough to go a few rounds with us. I wanna show him just how fucking wrong he is about that."

"He won't last one with Ranger," Tank noted. "I haven't seen one person withstand him. Add Stephanie to the equation ... and there won't be anything left of him to have to bury."

"Yeah, but I bet the Boss lets us have a shot or two."

"I'll take that bet," Bobby added.

"Quit bitching and betting and move," I barked at them, after Lahn was done dragging his feet on getting dressed and shoved them into a pair of loafers he had kicked off by the bed, too lazy for laces.

I kept a hand painfully gripping the back of his neck and forced him out of his room and down the stairs. Not surprising, the cokeheads were gone. They didn't even close the door completely behind them. Without even needing to discuss it, Brown got into the truck with me while Tank and Santos secured Lahn in their fleet vehicle.

They followed us to a warehouse that I own between Trenton and nowhere, and I hauled the asshole from the back of the SUV and into the gray brick building. I took the cuffs off and flung him onto the cement floor, feeling satisfied that his head bounced off it.

"Have you come up with an apology that will make my woman and myself happy and possibly save your life?" I asked him.

"If you wanna live longer than five minutes," Lester mock-whispered, "your answer had better be a 'Hell, yeah! Been thinkin' of nothing else on the ride here'."

"I'm sorry I may have upset your bitch," Lahn began.

My fist plowing into his jaw again stopped his poorly-placating words. "I don't have a lot of patience," I informed him. "I want a sincere apology that I can pass along and a promise that you will never threaten or harm another woman, child, or animal again. Keep in mind, if you just say what I want to hear and break your word ... I'm going to break you into as many pieces as I feel you deserve to be writhing in. Now ... try again."

"I didn't ..."

I took a Maglite from Tank and proceeded to take Lahn's left leg out from underneath him just as he started to struggle to his feet.

"A real man takes responsibility for all of his fuck ups," I told him. "He doesn't immediately deny his douchebag tendencies."

"I thought I was saying sorry for pissing off your bi ..."

I grabbed his arm and slammed it down over my knee, causing at least a small fracture. "You are, but until you cop to everything that you've done, and admit what you're still doing wrong now, you won't learn anything."

"Fuck, man!" He shouted in desperation and also in pain, cradling his left arm to his sunken chest. "What do you want from me?"

I made a show of shaking my head in disappointment. "Santos, since I'm tired of looking at you pouting ... you get five minutes. They start now. Make Steph proud."

"Now we're talking," he said. "Listen up, fucktard ... you insulted and could have hurt one of ours, and that isn't good for your health. Messing with a woman isn't ever okay in our book. It puts six more nails in the coffin we have waitin' for you, so shut the fuck up and start paying attention."

"I ..."

Turns out Lester's more of a hothead than I thought. He delivered a vicious shot to Lahn's kidneys.

"I told you to shut up, asshole, and listen. I can give you some pointers ... or a lot more punches if you don't wise up fast. You are very sorry for trying to accost Ms. Plum when she rightly pulled a gun on you when you wouldn't get your hands off the other lady."

Lahn was on his knees, sweating and panting from the pain. "I'm sorry for being a dick to Ms. Plum."

"You're getting better," Brown added.

"Times up, Santos," I said.

"But ..."

"But you used up all of your time jawing away," Tank pointed out.

"Fuck."

"Why are you sorry for not only messing up my Babe's day, but hurting someone who love you?" I pressed.

"Marjorie don't love me," Archibol argued. "She's just a ..."

I jerked him to his feet just to hit him where it would continue to hurt weeks from now, since his kidneys are now good and tender.

"You really don't want me to start all over again," I said in warning. "If this Majorie loves you, or wisely hates your fucking guts by now, neither gives you permission to touch her or anyone else in any way they object to."

"Fine. Got it. I'll take a fucking oath of celibacy just so I don't risk pissing off another fucking female. Happy?"

"Good job, Boss Man," Santos said, "he's one step away from offering to lop off his own dick. That'll shave off some time for us."

"He doesn't need a dick to act like one," Tank pointed out. "His hands and mouth were the problem today."

"Good point," Bobby agreed. "We need to move onto breaking another bone and get his jaw wired shut, since Ranger already got one arm outta commission."

"His jaw is swelling nicely at the moment," I noted. "One more shot should get the wire out if he makes it to a hospital."

"And then we can work on having him write his promise out in blood," Tank suggested. "His own of course."

"You're gonna put me away no matter what the fuck I do or say here, so what's the point to this shit?"

"That just answered a question I didn't ask," I replied. "You're too far gone to rehabilitate. So what's it going to be? Prison? Or a lifetime sentence that involves constant interaction with my people so you can't fuck up again?"

"You ain't gonna do nothin' but hand me over to the cops," Archibol stated.

"Tell you what, I'll show you what a better man is and give you more of a choice than you gave Marjorie." I tossed him my weapon. "Go ahead and take it. You think you're such a tough sonuvabitch? What are you going to do with a gun when there's no woman around to wave it at? Think you have a shot of surviving me before the weapon can fire?"

The four of us watched him eye us and then my Glock. He lunged for it, holding it to him with his unbroken arm like it's his fucking lifeline. His now-swelling eyes once again shifted back to us. My men and I didn't move, which really seemed to confuse him. We aren't appearing nervous or the least bit interested in his movements or what he intends to do. And that scared him even more than my fists did. He knows that whatever we do will be way worse than what he's picturing.

If we aren't at all worried about him making a break for the door, or concerned that he may try to shoot us, he's fully convinced that there's a reason behind our indifference. We could see him make one more calculation in his mind, and then he slowly raised the Glock. He tried out pointing it at me, but I just stared back at him. My blank expression decided his fate. Without giving himself a chance to chicken out, he turned the barrel of the gun and fired it into his own temple.

We all winced, not from what we just witnessed, but from the mess we now have to clean up.

"It shouldn't surprise me," Bobby began, "but I'm still shocked how fast bullies turn into pussies when they're toe-to-toe with someone like who they brag about being."

"It's pathetic," Santos agreed. "I'm the one who suggested shooting him, and he even managed to suck the fun out of that."

"Keep your focus," Tank told them. "He can't hurt Steph or anyone else again. That was our goal."

That's true, but I'm still more in Santos' camp. I would have liked to be the one who ended Lahn. Unfortunately, I'd have to face Stephanie with that knowledge between us if I had. I may have been the catalyst for his death, but I technically wasn't the executioner in it.

I pulled out my cell after retrieving my gun and tucking it back into its holster. "I caught Archibol Lahn," I told the Chief, "but he's a little bit dead. Do you want the body for your files or would you like me to just dispose of him and save you the trouble?"

"Was it an accidental death?" TPD's chief of police asked.

"No. He took the capture in his own hands and purposely pulled the trigger on himself."

I could almost see his expression as he sighed loudly. "That happens a lot when you're involved."

"Yeah, I'm starting to think I should be taking it personally."

Another sigh. "I'll tell the M.E. to be expecting your call, since I'm not sure I want to know where you're calling from right now."

"He had the chance to run, or to shoot us, he shot himself instead. I didn't put a gun to his head, he did."

"Right. Yeah. Sure. Just give me the address."

I did and then Tank and I left Brown and Santos behind to wait for the police's imminent arrival. I have Steph to get back to, and Tank has a new headache to type out and then file away for our own records. Being the Boss and calling all the shots doesn't suck all of the time.

"Did you kill him?" Steph asked me, as soon as I walked into our apartment and dropped my keys in the silver dish on the sideboard.

She's still dressed, having returned from the ER only twenty-minutes ago according to Ram's text. But I took comfort in the fact that she'd removed her jacket, gun, and Cat boots. If she were angry at my response to her call explaining how her apprehension of Lahn went very wrong, she wouldn't be here. Or she would be standing right in front of me, but armed and prepared for a fight ... not looking like she's settling in for the night.

"Ram confirmed that you were really, really angry when you took off after I filled you in on what happened. Marjorie's going to be physically okay at least, once her bruises and the cuts on her cheek and nose heal. That's the important thing."

I am glad to hear that Steph's actions likely saved a life today, whereas mine contributed to one ending, but I disagree with that being the only thing of importance in this situation. If Stephanie had been harmed, nothing and no one would have been safe from me.

"Would you be angry if I did kill Lahn?" I asked.

I pulled her close before I finished asking the question. One, because I can't stand there being any distance at all between us. And two, I can read her body even more accurately than I can read her mind.

"The part of me that I think is actually 'good' really wants to say 'yes' to that question," she told my chest, where she had pressed her face in order to breathe me and my closeness in.

"But?" I asked her, pressing a kiss to her curls.

"But ... then I picture Marjorie's battered face, made even worse-looking by tears she couldn't stop crying, and how he laughed while he trying to take a swing at me when I ordered him to leave. Then ... I really wanna say I hope it was a slow and very painful death. No one is safe from him. Marjorie may have gotten away from him this time, but there will always be someone new in his crosshairs after his current victim's no longer around."

"I promise, he won't hurt anyone again. And definitely not you, Babe."

"I told you that he didn't actually hurt me. He may have tried, but everyone knows that with me ... attempting to fuck with me is the equivalent to actually doing it, and I'm guessing my steel toe made sure he won't be fathering any kids to torture at least. I wasn't real happy with him, but I only cared about getting Marjorie to the ER asap or I likely would've shot him myself."

"He wanted me to pass along an apology to you for what he did to both you and his ex."

She pulled back a few inches so she could look up at me. "Yeah, I'm sure 'he' did. You're so sweet and patient and loving to me, I forget that you can wield a flashlight, your fists, or a weapon, relentlessly if the situation warrants it."

"This one did."

"I knew you'd think so. And I have to admit … so do I. I'm behind whatever you chose to do to him. I hate to say this, because I always try hard to find good in everyone, but some people really aren't worth the time it took to grow them."